Published: Saturday, February 2, 2013 at 11:23 p.m.

Last Modified: Saturday, February 2, 2013 at 11:23 p.m.

He worked day labor with the downtrodden and sold his own blood just to eat. But the dream always endured, kept alive by his steely resolve to become a Division I wrestler.

Some thought his notion was loony.

"Everybody laughed at him," said Andy Gugliemini, his wrestling coach at Manatee High School.

"I would have bet against him, to be honest," said Ryan Quigley, his longtime friend.

But Phil Mandzik, barely a high school graduate from a poor Bradenton family, carved his way though the obstacles and the doubt, through happenstance and stubborn persistence, to give himself that chance.

A bad start

Phil Mandzik grew up in a modest house in Bradenton, just behind Ballard Elementary.

His father, Tom, works for Florida Power & Light. His mother, Nancy, was a hairstylist until she suffered a broken neck in 1998 and could no longer work. She eventually had one neck surgery and two back operations, and didn't walk for a year.

Phil Mandzik, about 15 then, needed someone to drive him to wrestling meets. This inspired Nancy to walk again, she said.

And she did.

"I don't know if I would have lived through that whole thing if I didn't have my kids needing me," she said.

The medical bills buried the family, and only now are they starting to recover.

When Phil and his sister, Dana, now a medical student, were teenagers, they had little. If he wanted clothes like the other kids had, he had to mow lawns, scrimp and save.

"We wish we could have been the kind of parents to provide more," Nancy said. "But we can barely make ends meet now."

Phil's mother said he was an angry kid, one who might have been on the streets without wrestling. His freshman year at Manatee he went 1-11, the win a forfeit. But he stuck with the sport.

"Usually most wrestlers are a little different, but he's way different," Gugliemini said. "He's as determined as any kid I've ever had."

Mandzik took fifth in the state at 189 during his junior year — sixth as a senior — and everyone figured that would be it. He graduated with a GED in 2003 and never took college entrance exams.

After high school he moved to Pensacola, only to take a bus back home six months later. He was broke, and had no earthly clue what to do next.

The butterfly effect

For nearly two years he drove a dump truck for Manatee County and also worked in the lumber department of a big-box hardware store. Wrestling? It wasn't even on his radar.

But filling a competitive void was, so in 2004 he and Quigley, a friend from high school, began training for a marathon in Tampa.

Weighing 265 pounds and with little training, he finished in over five hours. The hollow feeling at the finish line surprised him.

"There was no satisfaction," he said. "I didn't have the feeling of the aggressive competition that wrestling brings."

He still has that marathon finisher's medal because "it was the start of my journey."

A turning point, too.

Another was bumping into former Sarasota High coach Ron Jones while stocking doors at Lowe's.

Jones is well respected and connected in the wrestling world, and according to Mandzik, he told him he should start wrestling again.

Mandzik quit Lowe's and his dump truck job the next day.

"He left Bradenton in shambles," said Quigley. "He limped out of here, maybe literally, and went to Chattanooga and chased that dream.

"Chattanooga was a big waste of time. But it was necessary."

The dream, the chase

An assistant coach had urged Mandzik to come to Chattanooga, Tenn., to wrestle at the school. But when Mandzik arrived, the coach wouldn't even take his calls. Then, the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga fired the coach.

It was the summer of 2006.

Mandzik was fresh off knee surgery. He arrived in Chattanooga with $80 in his pocket, some family pictures in a suitcase and his clothes in a trash bag.

"I didn't know what I was doing," he said. "I just threw myself into the world."

He had no car insurance or cellphone and owed the hospital money for his knee surgery. And the days were about to get even darker.

Mandzik lived in his truck for a while, then went to the wrestling dorm and knocked on doors, hoping someone would take him in.

Eventually, a former national high school champion from Ohio named Matt Koz did for a while, and the two were able to spend some time training together. But Mandzik mostly worked.

He stayed there two years, hauling rock and garbage for day labor, installing marble in kitchens, selling his blood. At one point he got a DUI and spent a weekend in jail.

"Every turn I took, something was blocking me, and it was really starting to build up," he said. "But as long as you're alive, you're OK.

"That's one of the theories I have."

A national champion

It wasn't until a friend gave him some money to attend the NCAA wrestling tournament in St. Louis, that his fortunes changed.

He was 24, dejected and playing pool one night when a complete stranger approached him and said, "Hey, you used to wrestle, didn't you?"

"I said, 'No, I never wrestled,' because at this point I'm ready to give up," said Mandzik.

"He goes, 'You should meet this guy, Luke Moffitt. He's like this crazy coach. He goes on gut feeling. And he's right here, partying it up.'"

Moffitt, a successful coach at Central Iowa Community College and a former Big Ten champion for Iowa, was introduced to Mandzik.

It was closing time.

Moffitt put Mandzik in a headlock and muttered, "There's something about you. ... I can make you a champion."

They parted ways and Mandzik figured that would be it. But a few months later, Moffitt called and said, "I need a heavyweight. Do you have any film?"

"No," Mandzik said.

"Well, come up to Iowa anyway and I'll give you a scholarship," Moffitt said.

Mandzik, at 24, became the starting heavyweight for Central Iowa and helped the team win two national dual meet championships and two national team championships in 2009-10.

"Moffitt always laughs and says he recruited me out of a bar," said Mandzik.

While in Iowa, Mandzik was sending out hundreds of emails to Division I schools, so many that he would sometimes send schools emails intended for other schools.

His friend, Quigley, was helping him from Bradenton. Quigley, 28, had just started law school, inspired by Mandzik.

"Phil's story, up until the point of achievement, is not that uncommon," Quigley said. "Some kids try it for a while. The difference is those kids never pull it off.

Quigley added, "I would have bet against him, to be honest."

Big chance

In 2010, Mandzik leaves Iowa and shows up at West Virginia University without a scholarship or a place to live. However, the Mountaineers' staff expresses interest in him and knows he's enrolling.

He makes the team because the coach there needs a training partner for a promising heavyweight. He finds a place to live and works in the cafeteria so he can eat.

In his first year, he loses a match 13-3. His coach, Craig Turnbull, comes over to console him and is surprised by the reaction.

"He was angry," said Turnbull. "He said, 'I know I can beat him next time if I just work on this, this and this.'"

Sure enough, when Turnbull shows up at his office the next morning at 8:30, Mandzik is there running sprints.

"I've coached here 35 years and he's as unique a person as we've had in this program," said Turnbull. "His heart and his determination and his belief are enormous.

"His life has tremendous potential."

As a junior in 2010-11, Mandzik held a record of 10-18. He won a coach's award for hard work. He redshirted last year.

This season, at 28, he is 8-13 as a redshirt senior. He wants to win a national championship.

"I'm definitely not the best in the nation," he said. "But I'm trying to be."

Who's going to tell him he can't? He is six hours short of a degree in history and has his sights on a master's in special education. He worked with disabled kids in Iowa and might become a teacher. He'd also like to continue wrestling.

His parents have never seen him wrestle in college, there's not enough money, but they did attend his wedding in December. Phil married Mandy, who is working on her doctorate in economics.

In fact, everyone who helped along the way was there to honor the man who continues to live the dream.

"I don't feel like it's been a long road," Mandzik said. "It just turned out to be the road I'm on.

<p>He worked day labor with the downtrodden and sold his own blood just to eat. But the dream always endured, kept alive by his steely resolve to become a Division I wrestler.</p><p>Some thought his notion was loony.</p><p>"Everybody laughed at him," said Andy Gugliemini, his wrestling coach at Manatee High School.</p><p>"I would have bet against him, to be honest," said Ryan Quigley, his longtime friend. </p><p>But Phil Mandzik, barely a high school graduate from a poor Bradenton family, carved his way though the obstacles and the doubt, through happenstance and stubborn persistence, to give himself that chance.</p><p><b>A bad start</b></p><p>Phil Mandzik grew up in a modest house in Bradenton, just behind Ballard Elementary.</p><p>His father, Tom, works for Florida Power & Light. His mother, Nancy, was a hairstylist until she suffered a broken neck in 1998 and could no longer work. She eventually had one neck surgery and two back operations, and didn't walk for a year.</p><p>Phil Mandzik, about 15 then, needed someone to drive him to wrestling meets. This inspired Nancy to walk again, she said.</p><p>And she did.</p><p>"I don't know if I would have lived through that whole thing if I didn't have my kids needing me," she said.</p><p>The medical bills buried the family, and only now are they starting to recover. </p><p>When Phil and his sister, Dana, now a medical student, were teenagers, they had little. If he wanted clothes like the other kids had, he had to mow lawns, scrimp and save.</p><p>"We wish we could have been the kind of parents to provide more," Nancy said. "But we can barely make ends meet now."</p><p>Phil's mother said he was an angry kid, one who might have been on the streets without wrestling. His freshman year at Manatee he went 1-11, the win a forfeit. But he stuck with the sport.</p><p>"Usually most wrestlers are a little different, but he's way different," Gugliemini said. "He's as determined as any kid I've ever had."</p><p>Mandzik took fifth in the state at 189 during his junior year — sixth as a senior — and everyone figured that would be it. He graduated with a GED in 2003 and never took college entrance exams.</p><p>After high school he moved to Pensacola, only to take a bus back home six months later. He was broke, and had no earthly clue what to do next. </p><p><b>The butterfly effect</b></p><p>For nearly two years he drove a dump truck for Manatee County and also worked in the lumber department of a big-box hardware store. Wrestling? It wasn't even on his radar.</p><p>But filling a competitive void was, so in 2004 he and Quigley, a friend from high school, began training for a marathon in Tampa.</p><p>Weighing 265 pounds and with little training, he finished in over five hours. The hollow feeling at the finish line surprised him.</p><p>"There was no satisfaction," he said. "I didn't have the feeling of the aggressive competition that wrestling brings."</p><p>He still has that marathon finisher's medal because "it was the start of my journey."</p><p>A turning point, too.</p><p>Another was bumping into former Sarasota High coach Ron Jones while stocking doors at Lowe's.</p><p>Jones is well respected and connected in the wrestling world, and according to Mandzik, he told him he should start wrestling again.</p><p>Mandzik quit Lowe's and his dump truck job the next day.</p><p>"He left Bradenton in shambles," said Quigley. "He limped out of here, maybe literally, and went to Chattanooga and chased that dream.</p><p>"Chattanooga was a big waste of time. But it was necessary."</p><p><b>The dream, the chase</b></p><p>An assistant coach had urged Mandzik to come to Chattanooga, Tenn., to wrestle at the school. But when Mandzik arrived, the coach wouldn't even take his calls. Then, the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga fired the coach. </p><p>It was the summer of 2006. </p><p>Mandzik was fresh off knee surgery. He arrived in Chattanooga with $80 in his pocket, some family pictures in a suitcase and his clothes in a trash bag. </p><p>"I didn't know what I was doing," he said. "I just threw myself into the world."</p><p>He had no car insurance or cellphone and owed the hospital money for his knee surgery. And the days were about to get even darker.</p><p>Mandzik lived in his truck for a while, then went to the wrestling dorm and knocked on doors, hoping someone would take him in. </p><p>Eventually, a former national high school champion from Ohio named Matt Koz did for a while, and the two were able to spend some time training together. But Mandzik mostly worked. </p><p>He stayed there two years, hauling rock and garbage for day labor, installing marble in kitchens, selling his blood. At one point he got a DUI and spent a weekend in jail.</p><p>"Every turn I took, something was blocking me, and it was really starting to build up," he said. "But as long as you're alive, you're OK.</p><p>"That's one of the theories I have."</p><p><b>A national champion</b></p><p>It wasn't until a friend gave him some money to attend the NCAA wrestling tournament in St. Louis, that his fortunes changed.</p><p>He was 24, dejected and playing pool one night when a complete stranger approached him and said, "Hey, you used to wrestle, didn't you?"</p><p>"I said, 'No, I never wrestled,' because at this point I'm ready to give up," said Mandzik.</p><p>"He goes, 'You should meet this guy, Luke Moffitt. He's like this crazy coach. He goes on gut feeling. And he's right here, partying it up.'"</p><p>Moffitt, a successful coach at Central Iowa Community College and a former Big Ten champion for Iowa, was introduced to Mandzik.</p><p>It was closing time. </p><p>Moffitt put Mandzik in a headlock and muttered, "There's something about you. ... I can make you a champion." </p><p>They parted ways and Mandzik figured that would be it. But a few months later, Moffitt called and said, "I need a heavyweight. Do you have any film?"</p><p>"No," Mandzik said.</p><p>"Well, come up to Iowa anyway and I'll give you a scholarship," Moffitt said.</p><p>Mandzik, at 24, became the starting heavyweight for Central Iowa and helped the team win two national dual meet championships and two national team championships in 2009-10.</p><p>"Moffitt always laughs and says he recruited me out of a bar," said Mandzik. </p><p>While in Iowa, Mandzik was sending out hundreds of emails to Division I schools, so many that he would sometimes send schools emails intended for other schools.</p><p>His friend, Quigley, was helping him from Bradenton. Quigley, 28, had just started law school, inspired by Mandzik.</p><p>"Phil's story, up until the point of achievement, is not that uncommon," Quigley said. "Some kids try it for a while. The difference is those kids never pull it off.</p><p>Quigley added, "I would have bet against him, to be honest." </p><p><b>Big chance</b> </p><p>In 2010, Mandzik leaves Iowa and shows up at West Virginia University without a scholarship or a place to live. However, the Mountaineers' staff expresses interest in him and knows he's enrolling.</p><p>He makes the team because the coach there needs a training partner for a promising heavyweight. He finds a place to live and works in the cafeteria so he can eat. </p><p>In his first year, he loses a match 13-3. His coach, Craig Turnbull, comes over to console him and is surprised by the reaction.</p><p>"He was angry," said Turnbull. "He said, 'I know I can beat him next time if I just work on this, this and this.'"</p><p>Sure enough, when Turnbull shows up at his office the next morning at 8:30, Mandzik is there running sprints. </p><p>"I've coached here 35 years and he's as unique a person as we've had in this program," said Turnbull. "His heart and his determination and his belief are enormous.</p><p>"His life has tremendous potential."</p><p>As a junior in 2010-11, Mandzik held a record of 10-18. He won a coach's award for hard work. He redshirted last year. </p><p>This season, at 28, he is 8-13 as a redshirt senior. He wants to win a national championship.</p><p>"I'm definitely not the best in the nation," he said. "But I'm trying to be."</p><p>Who's going to tell him he can't? He is six hours short of a degree in history and has his sights on a master's in special education. He worked with disabled kids in Iowa and might become a teacher. He'd also like to continue wrestling.</p><p>His parents have never seen him wrestle in college, there's not enough money, but they did attend his wedding in December. Phil married Mandy, who is working on her doctorate in economics.</p><p>In fact, everyone who helped along the way was there to honor the man who continues to live the dream.</p><p>"I don't feel like it's been a long road," Mandzik said. "It just turned out to be the road I'm on.</p><p>"And I feel like it's just getting started."</p>